As we near the end of this story, I'm already thinking ahead to what's next, and I want your input!

Here's a snippet of the story, please let me know your thoughts. Should I continue writing it or move on to something else?

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LUCAS POV

I heard it before I saw it, the muffled shouting, the sound of hurried footsteps thudding against the worn wooden floors.

It was happening again, my mind leapt to that thought before I could even consider ignoring it.

My heart pounded in my chest as the realization hit me. I didn't want to watch this time. I didn't want to be part of it. But in this city, if you don't watch, if you don't join in, then suspicion falls on you. And suspicion is a death sentence.

I rose from my bed, the thin sheets clinging to my sweat-soaked skin. The room was suffocating, the air thick with the stench of fear. My fingers trembled as I reached for the doorknob, hesitating for just a moment. I didn't want to see it, but I had to. The choice was never mine.

I stepped into the dimly lit hallway, the flickering lamps casting long, eerie shadows against the cracked walls.

The noise was louder now, coming from just down the corridor. My feet moved on their own, carrying me toward the chaos, even as my mind screamed to turn back.

But I couldn't. I knew if I didn't show my face, people might start to wonder, start to question. And questions in this city are dangerous.

As I rounded the corner, I saw them, Kenny and Cheney.

My heart sank, a sickening lurch that made me want to vomit.

They were being dragged out of their apartment, naked, their bodies exposed to the jeering crowd that had gathered like vultures.

I knew them, of course. Everyone did. They were roommates, or at least, that's what they wanted everyone to believe. But I'd seen the way they looked at each other, the stolen glances, the lingering touches. I knew the truth, and so did others, it seemed.

Kenny's eyes met mine for a brief moment, wide with terror, pleading silently for help. But what could I do? I was just as trapped as they were, just as helpless. All I could do was follow the crowd, my feet moving against my will, carrying me toward the inevitable.

The city square was already buzzing with excitement by the time we arrived, the air crackling with a dark, twisted energy.

People were laughing, shouting, their faces contorted with hatred and disgust.

I heard the names they were called, abominations, monsters, demons, and my stomach churned. How could they not see the hypocrisy, the evil in their own actions?

My hands clenched into fists, nails digging into my palms as I struggled to keep my expression neutral. I couldn't let them see my fear, my anger. I couldn't let them see me.

The city lord, a tall, imposing figure with a voice that could freeze blood, stepped forward, and the crowd quieted. His eyes were cold, devoid of any humanity as he looked down at Kenny and Cheney, who were now on their knees, their faces streaked with tears and dirt.

"These two abominations," the city lord began, his voice dripping with venom, "were caught defiling their bodies, betraying the very laws that keep our city pure. Thanks to Cain here, we were able to uncover their sickening secret."

Cain stepped forward, a smug smile on his face as he basked in the city lord's praise.

My heart twisted in my chest. Cain had been their friend, or so they thought. In this city, even your closest ally could turn on you in an instant if it meant saving their own skin. Family, friends, none of it mattered here. Only survival.

Kenny and Cheney were sobbing now, their cries for mercy falling on deaf ears. They hadn't done anything wrong. They'd just loved each other, in a city that saw their love as a crime. But no one cared about that. All they cared about was punishing the "evil" in their midst.

The city lord's lips twisted into a cruel smile as he grabbed Cheney by the hair, yanking his head back so he was forced to watch as the crowd descended upon Kenny. "You will watch as your lover is punished for his sins," the city lord hissed, his voice filled with sadistic glee.

The crowd surged forward, a mass of bodies intent on destruction.

I watched, rooted to the spot, as they began to beat Kenny, their fists and feet slamming into his body with sickening force. He screamed, a sound that would haunt me for the rest of my life, a sound that echoed in my mind long after it stopped.

I wanted to look away, to close my eyes, to block out the horror in front of me. But I couldn't.

If I looked away, if I showed even the slightest hint of weakness, they would know. They would know that I was different, that I was one of the "abominations" they so despised.

And then it would be me in the square, on my knees, begging for mercy that would never come.

Kenny's screams grew weaker, his body battered and broken. The crowd didn't stop, didn't relent, until there was nothing left but a lifeless, bloody shell. My stomach twisted, bile rising in my throat as I watched the life drain from his eyes. And still, they cheered.

The city lord released Cheney, who crumpled to the ground, crawling toward Kenny's body with a heart-wrenching sob. He held him, rocking back and forth, his cries filling the square, a sound so full of pain and despair that it cut through the noise of the crowd.

But the city lord wasn't done. He grabbed Cheney by the arm, dragging him to his feet. "Now it's your turn," he sneered, pushing him toward the crowd.

"No, please!" Cheney begged, his voice hoarse from screaming. "Please, have mercy!"

But there was no mercy here. The crowd descended upon him with the same ferocity, their hatred fueled by the blood they had already spilled. Cheney's cries echoed in the square, but they fell on deaf ears. No one would save him. No one would save any of us.

I stood there, trembling, my hands shaking so hard I could barely keep them at my sides. How could people be so cruel? How could they justify this, call it justice? My heart ached with a pain so deep it threatened to tear me apart.

The city lord watched with satisfaction as Cheney's life was beaten out of him, a sick smile on his lips as he reveled in the suffering he had caused.

When it was over, when Cheney lay still beside his lover, the city lord gave the order to burn them. Their bodies were set ablaze, the flames licking at their skin, reducing them to nothing more than ash and bone.

The crowd began to disperse, their bloodlust sated for now.

But I stayed, rooted to the spot, unable to move. The smell of burning flesh filled the air, and I gagged, bile rising in my throat. My hands wouldn't stop shaking, my entire body trembling with fear and rage and something else, something I couldn't quite name.

I looked down at the charred remains of Kenny and Cheney, two people who had done nothing wrong except love each other. And I knew that it could have been me. One wrong move, one slip, and I would be next.

My name is Lucas.

I was born and raised in a city that is against same-sex relationships.

A city that kills people like me without a second thought.

I'm Lucas and I'm gay.

***

Your input will help shape this adventure, so don't hesitate to share your suggestions and thoughts. Let's create something amazing together!

Comment below , I can't wait to hear from you!

And if you don't like it, what kinds of stories are you hoping to read next? More romance, fantasy, or something completely new? What characters or themes would you love to see explored? Your feedback will help shape my next novel the way that will suit you, and I can't wait to create something amazing with your ideas in mind.

Warm regards,

[Linda Wilyuhm]